


black sheep

by cettevieestbien



Series: The Rogers Clan [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Asexual Character, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Family Dynamics, Gen, POV Original Character, Slight Religious Themes, Stream of Consciousness, slight pre-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6517066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cettevieestbien/pseuds/cettevieestbien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's Aunt Marie is having a baby. </p><p>OR,</p><p>Eva was different. She was the surrogate mom to everyone, now that Grandma Anna - George’s beloved mother - was passed. When they passed, she’d been in her thirties. She’d grown enough to have her own place, a nice husband with a well paying job, and two children. Joseph, Emma and Edward were all gone, and what was left was Marie, Sarah and George. Of course she became the new woman of the family.</p><p>Eva, as a result, had gained the moral uprightness of Steve Rogers, but not the attitude that came along.</p><p>It was no wonder they argued. Just the week before, there had been a long argument about what Steve was and was not allowed to politely do when he saw something in the street. He’d punched a guy square in the mouth for trying something with a girl who didn’t want it. Eva insisted he should’ve called for someone to get help, and not go in for the kill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	black sheep

**Author's Note:**

> \- Dedicated to my niblings, who are just like Phillipa and James  
> \- I have a family tree ready to go if there is confusion  
> \- I wrote this instead of my big bang fic. Yay me! -_-  
> \- Ages of all characters in this fic:  
> \- Eva Walker: 41  
> \- Sarah Rogers: 40  
> \- Samuel Walker: 40  
> \- Marie Holly: 28  
> \- William Holly: 24  
> \- George Rogers: 20  
> \- Michael Walker: 16  
> \- Mae Walker: 13  
> \- Steve Rogers: 12  
> \- Edgar Rogers/Holly: 11  
> \- Phillipa Holly: 1  
> \- James Holly: 0
> 
> Lunger means person with TB  
> Genius means unfathomably stupid  
> Making tracks means leaving quickly

**1930**

 

Michael and Steve sat passed out in the chairs. Phillipa laid out on Michael’s chest, while Mae and Edgar sat on Steve’s other side.

 

Mae and Edgar spoke quietly about the new baby, and all the babysitting that was in their future.

 

Sarah was in the room with Aunt Marie and Uncle William. Uncle George was pacing anxiously, and both Aunt Eva and Uncle Sam were sitting calmly. Eva and Sam had done this twice, with Michael and Mae. George had been too young when Michael, Mae, Steve and Edgar were born to remember very well. However, when little Phillipa had been born the year before, he’d definitely been old enough to remember all of his sister-in-law’s cries, and the screams from the baby. 

 

James - or Marjorie, if they had a girl, they weren’t sure yet - was already causing Marie to get loud. George couldn’t help but drag a hand through his hair, even though it was covered in pomade when he brought it back down. He briefly wondered if all of his siblings caused old Grandma Anna and Grandpa Frank this much stress. Then he wondered if they ever called their parents Grandma and Grandpa instead of Mom and Dad like he did. Damn kids heard “Mom” and thought of their own mom, even if he said “my Mom”. It was a little infuriating at first, but he was used to it now.

 

He bit his lip, then started to chew on a nail. He didn’t know the rest of them could just sit there, calm and even sleepily. It made no sense.

 

“Sit down, Georgie,” Steve said, even though his eyes were still closed. His voice was already deep, even though he was just twelve years old. Depper than George’s, at least. He got it from Joseph, Eva had told him. She was lucky enough to remember their brother. George wasn’t.

 

“Don’t call me Georgie, Stevie,” he called back. Steve groaned. They hated their nicknames, but refused to call the other anything but. It made for lots of complaining. He kept his voice down so Phillipa could rest, but it was loud enough for Eva and Sam to hear.

 

“George,” Eva said in her ‘I’m a mom’ voice. He huffed a sigh, and fell into the chair next to Sam. Sam And Eva were both about twenty years older than him due to his accident baby status, but there was one main difference between them. Eva and Sam acted like George was their eldest child, while George acted like they were just his siblings. 

 

And okay, George understood where they were coming from. Sam had explained once how, since he was only four years older than Michael, that George was practically an older sibling/eldest child. “We’ve also claimed Steve and Edgar,” Sam had laughed.

 

“Sam?”

 

“Hmm?” He looked up from the newspaper he’d grabbed from the side table when they got there hours before. “What is it?”

 

“Have you claimed Phillipa yet?” He rolled his head onto the back of the chair and looked at Sam. Sam laughed and shook his head. 

 

“She’s too young, and so will this child be.” He put on airs, and made his accent - usually extremely obviously Bostonian - affected like a Brit. His mustache twitched in amusement.

 

“Cease talking in riddles at once, good sir,” George joked. He mimicked the accent.

 

“Now why would I ever do such a thing? I do not feel good will in your accusations, mister.”

 

Edgar laughed, and Phillipa shifted. Steve sat up, rubbing at the corners of his eyes. He stretched, and George spied every single protruding, Irish rib.

 

“I thought the Barnes’ fed you, Stevie.”

 

Steve gave him a glare. “They have a new baby, too, Georgie. Go back to playing your game and leave me alone.”

 

George raised an eyebrow. Eva frowned.

 

Eva and Sam weren’t wrong to pseudo-adopt George. Their parents died when George was ten (their Dad) and fourteen (their Mom), and Eva and Sam took him in. In 1924, they’d already had Michael, born 1914, and Mae, born 1917. George had been born in 1910, and he fit into the family well. But Steve was still his closest relative, and as a result, George had flip-flopped between Sam and Eva’s, and Sarah and Steve’s places. 

 

Thusly, he was much more used to Steve’s hostile behavior than Eva and Sam. Not that Sam cared much - George had never met anyone so laid back. If George belonged in a nut house - and don’t get him wrong, he wouldn’t say he didn’t need it - then Sam belonged in.... a place where everyone was calm and sane all the time. Did they even exist? It was possible one did exist, and was the eighth world treasure. George wouldn’t know.

 

Eva was different. She was the surrogate mom to everyone, now that Grandma Anna - George’s beloved mother - was passed. When they passed, she’d been in her thirties. She’d grown enough to have her own place, a nice husband with a well paying job, and two children. Joseph, Emma and Edward were all gone, and what was left was Marie, Sarah and George. Of course she became the new woman of the family.

 

Eva, as a result, had gained the moral uprightness of Steve Rogers, but not the attitude that came along.

 

It was no wonder they argued. Just the week before, there had been a long argument about what Steve was and was not allowed to  _ politely _ do when he saw something in the street. He’d punched a guy square in the mouth for trying something with a girl who didn’t want it. Eva insisted he should’ve called for someone to get help, and  _ not _ go in for the kill.

 

William had just rolled his eyes and rocked Phillipa to sleep. She was used to the loud noises of the city by now, had to be if she wanted to rest. George himself had gotten into with Eva, defending Steve. He’d also tried to get Steve to see Eva’s reasonings, but that was like pulling teeth. It was much easier to get Eva to understand Steve than it was for Steve to do the opposite.

 

Michael, Mae and Edgar knew better than to get into it. George should’ve, too, but that wasn’t the case. Crazies never learn, a teacher had once told him. (She only called him crazy because, in her words, he worried too much. Got too uptight, and anxious.  _ He needs to calm down _ , she’d told Mom and Dad a year before Dad died.  _ You should get him treatments. The electric kind. _ They never did - too poor, and too smart to send him anywhere but to school.)

 

It was when that old bat’s words came to mind that Steve stood and said over his shoulder, “I’m going to be right back.” He walked off, and didn’t say anything else.

 

Eva frowned harder. George sat up and leant forward to watch Steve go.  _ Damn _ , he wanted to say, but there was a perfectly good newspaper being held by a guy who knew how to roll them up in seconds. He wanted to keep his head in tact, thank you very much. No hitting George today, no sir.

 

“Probably going to see Bucky,” Mae offered. Bucky was a main staple in their family. He was the only man, woman or child in all of Brooklyn who could get Steve to calm down in five minutes or less. Even dear Sarah had trouble.

 

That said, Eva and the older folk of the family didn’t much approve of Bucky Barnes. George loved the kid like he was a nephew, and Michael, Mae and Edgar all enjoyed his jokes and theatrical remakes. It was because Bucky was in the age range that started with George and ended with Edgar. He fit in with them, but not anyone born in the 1800s. They didn’t bother to get to know him, or see how he treated Steve. If George never met the boy, and only knew of how he treated Steve, then he’d give his blessings for whatever relationship they wanted.

 

Eva wasn’t like that. Sam didn’t care, but Eva did. She cared too much, for someone who generally wouldn’t talk to him.

 

In fact, Eva had said once or twice before that he was  _ one of those people _ like she’d said  _ Irish Catholics _ until Steve and Sarah came into the picture. George didn’t care much about religion.

 

Still, in moments like those, when the family was coming loose at the seams, he wondered if he should. If he should pray like Eva insisted on before dinner, or clutch a rosary like Sarah and Steve.

 

Other times, he just didn’t care and didn’t give any brain power to it. Like then, he just sat back and challenged Sam to a card game. Praying for a peaceful moment was lost on him. Maybe that was why his teacher didn’t like him - he refused to pray with the other kids. He didn’t seem to take things as seriously as they all wanted him to. Plus, he spent his money on things he shouldn’t. Like a deck of cards.

 

He’d spent his whole check from the clerk job on a deck of cards. They weren’t very old, but they’d been played to wearing. He’d had to redraw the sixes of hearts multiple times.

 

Michael shifted, keeping a hand over Phillipa’s back to make sure she stayed. She was lucky, everyone had said. She’d have a lifelong companion in the form of her new sibling. Steve was an only child, all of George’s siblings had at least a full year between them (not to mention Edward being ten years older than him as the penultimate child), and Michael was four years older than Mae. Even Edgar was much older than his siblings - ten years more than Phillipa and now eleven more than James/Marjorie.

 

She was also especially lucky that Michael didn’t mind watching her for pennies every once in awhile. Steve would do it for a small favor, at least, but you couldn’t get George to do that for anyone. He distinctly remembers Edward, one of his older brothers who died in the war, being the same way. He loved Michael, the only little niece or nephew he’d ever met, but he wouldn’t watch him alone. 

 

Edward wasn’t a crazy like George, though. He wondered, though, if the baby who died at four years old of sickness - Emma, her name was - would’ve grown to be a crazy. George wasn’t sure.

 

Even though he wasn’t paying much attention, he won the game against Sam. Sam’s eyes were getting old, and he couldn’t see as well as he used to. 

 

Before George could make a sly comment, Sarah came out. There wasn’t any blood on her person, but Mae and Edgar still recoiled. George wanted to snort. However, one didn’t just snort at Sarah Rogers. Not unless they wanted hell and earth to collide.

 

She rolled her eyes at the kids, and collapsed into a chair near George. “You know,” she said to the room at large, “Steve was not nearly as difficult a birth as this one.”

 

“That’s because Steve was four pounds,” Mae answered sweetly. Edgar guffawed.

 

“Quit making fun of your cousin. That’s me and Michael’s job, not yours.” He tried to put on the air of authority, but from the unimpressed looks he got, he didn’t do it very well.

 

Maybe they were just too used to Eva and her drill sergeant voice.

 

“He’s not even your cousin,” Edgar complained.

 

Sarah rubbed at her temples. “Where is my boy, anyway?”

 

“He left.” George said bluntly.

 

“I think he’s gone to see Bucky.” Mae cut in.

 

Eva answered, “he left a while ago, saying he would be back. Let’s hope he doesn’t miss the birth.”

 

Sarah waved a hand. “That’s what I came out here to tell you all. Marie and child are well, and Phillipa is now the proud older sister to one James Franklin Holly.”

 

“Oh!” Eva’s hand came up to her mouth. She glanced at Phillipa and Michael, then in the direction Steve had left. Slyly, she said, “George, could you - “

 

“Yeah, I’ll wait for the stubborn mule, and make sure no one takes off with the kiddos.” He rolled his eyes and slouched dramatically. “It’s fine, I’ll never see the new baby. What do I care, anyway, when I have - “

 

“He’s old enough to drive, you know. Not so much a kiddo anymore.” 

 

George grinned at Eva. “So? He’s still a minor, and therefore, he’s still a kiddo.”

 

“Thank you.” She kissed his cheek, then grabbed for Edgar and Mae’s hands. Mae complained about being too old, but went along anyway.

 

Must be some deep fascination with babies, George thought as Sam followed his wife, and Sarah led the way. Not that he’d been spared. He loved babies, for sure. He just wasn’t any good with or around them, and wasn’t one to try his hand at the making process.

 

He’d asked Sarah once, in 1920, if it was normal, not wanting to do… that. She’d shrugged, said there was no harm coming to anyone, so what did it matter if it was normal. Then Steve had spit up, and he’d helped her clean the baby up.

 

Babies always made him nostalgic. He was sure that whenever he saw little James, he’d suddenly remember every baby-memory he’d ever had. That was, if he got to see James. Steve sure was taking a long time to get back.

 

George slouched and shuffled his cards.

 

He sat there until William and Sarah came out, a bundle in his arms. When they saw George, Sarah whispered, “Marie is about to fall asleep. Right now, she’s talking to the rest of us. We need to wake these two up so Eva and her circus can go.”

 

George stood, and watched as William sat in the seat next to his. He poked Michael in the eye, and laughed when Sarah instantly berated him. Michael shot forward, jarring Phillipa into the land of the awake.

 

Michael was still holding her, and luckily she didn’t fall. George still got the hairy eyeball from all but Phillipa, who burst into tears, and James, who also burst into tears. Siblings alike in dignity, he thought with a giggle.

 

“Uh,” he said. Michael glared, and William shot him a hard look. Both rocked the babies to shush them.

 

Sarah groaned, and pushed at his shoulders until he sat. “Stay,” she ordered.

 

“Woof.”

 

Before she could really dig into him for him dumb joke, there was the sound of pounding feet coming from around the corner.

 

Steve was always late. Sometimes, like then, his lateness was well timed, but most of the time, it wasn’t.

 

Still, George could deflect. He asked sassily, “where have you been, mister?”

 

Steve turned the corner right as he said that. The supremely unimpressed look was enough to get George’s poker face to crack. He laughed, while Steve panted and wheezed slightly, still walking toward them, and the babies cried.

 

“What in God’s green earth is going on?” He asked between breaths.

 

Sarah did the pose, sticking a hip out and putting a hand there. “George is a real genius. He poked Michael in the eye, and scared Phillipa half to death. And, you missed the birth! You have a new cousin, son. His name is James, and he’s over there crying because of your uncle.” Her voice was fierce and dry. She was like a damned natural disaster that came in, wrecked things, and left. He wouldn’t have her any other way, but still.

 

Steve and George both winced. “Jeez Louise, Sarah, you want me in the hotsquat, or somethin’?”

 

“It would surely lower my stress levels,” she retorted drily.

 

“Dear lord above, is this really Sarah Rogers? She’s seems much too sassy today. And she’s not nearly so murderous usually.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes, and sat heavily next to Michael. Phillipa patted his head, calming down enough to lower the din of noise to a dull roar. Steve nudged his head into her hand, and she giggled. Steve was great around babies, Michael and George, and that was it. Family such as Sarah and Mae were fine, but not his best. Bucky could go either way - blushing and sticking a foot in his mouth, or perfect little angel. There was no way to tell.

 

“You will be apologizing to everyone later, you hear?”

 

“Yes,  _ Mom _ .”

 

She sighed. “Will, can you handle this one? Michael will help you.”

 

“Sure can, Miss. George, you help Steve get his breath about him, would you? Michael, bring Phillipa over here.”

 

As George went to make Steve straighten his back as well as he could and get in deep breaths, he saw James. He was a cutie, just like they all were.

 

“Where were you,” George asked when he finally sat. “Where’d you go? Sit up, boy!”

 

Steve gave him the hairy eyeball, but answered anyway. “Went to the Barnes’ to talk to Bucky. You know he would’ve come by today, if there wasn’t a baby in the house. Don’t want a lunger to infect her.”

 

“Yeah, we all get it. Just, next time, don’t make tracks, alright?”

 

He prodded at Steve until the younger boy sat up. He mimicked a deep breath, and watched Steve like a hawk until he followed.

 

“Gotcha, pal.”

 

“I ain’t your pal, I’m your uncle and you will treat me with respect.”

 

Steve snorted. As he kept taking in breaths, they both watched Phillipa and James meet for the first time. She waved cutely at the baby, who stared back. William looked a bit teary-eyed.

 

“You know, I may be the black sheep, but at least the family is moving on, right?”

 

Steve gave him a sharp look. “I’m the black sheep, Georgie. You know what the Rogers family reputation is, now there’s an Irish Catholic or two in the mix.”

 

“Least you’re not crazy.”

 

“Better’n a fairy.”

 

They shared a long, calculating look. “I won’t blab to the coppers if you don’t.”

 

“Deal.” They spit. Michael made a ‘ _ gross! _ ’ noise, and Mae, who’d come down the hallway to collect her shawl and get ready to leave, screeched.

 

George and Steve just laughed and shook on it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably add more, but for now it's going to be marked completed.


End file.
